Winter's End
by lark lavroc
Summary: Kiichi's thoughts of what he can't forget. [HaruomiKiichi, hints of ReijiKiichi]


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Love Mode, even though I love the characters.

**A/N**: A try at Kiichi introspection and a look into one of the most devoted couples in LM. Many thanks goes to Dew for the excellent, thoughtful beta. I learn as I edit, which I can only be grateful for.

_Completed: 10/12/04_

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**Winter's End**

Kiichi is happy.

The thought surprises him sometimes, comes when he leasts expects it to. He knows why, of course, but that hardly stops the thoughts now and again; it hardly puts a halt to any of his neuroses and his need to _be_ himself, to just do something that says _here I am, I can do whatever I want_. It all blends into one vague blur, when the need to distract himself comes, and he cannot resist. Will not resist. He hardly tries to anymore, though Reiji would certainly have something to say about that.

There are reasons why he teases Reiji so much. Reiji knows them all of course, but he plays along anyway because he knows Kiichi, and whatever Kiichi wants, Reiji can never deny. It's the way it was, the way it should have been, and the way it is now. Except there are many things which differentiates the present from the past, and Kiichi can't say he has forgotten everything. He can't say that he can.

No, the past still dwells in his mind, from time to time, in silent moments when he is still, and he feels the sharp bruises, the painful moments, the absolute need. Or, if he is honest with himself, the past is most acute when he sees Reiji's face; too stern, too dark, too unfeeling. Too much like Shougo's. It's partly why he likes to see Reiji annoyed, happy, smiling, frowning. Even just the exasperation differentiates the past from the present because Shougo was never exasperated— unpredictably angry, maybe—and when Reiji smiles with his eyes, Kiichi thinks the world is what it should be; painful and knife-sharp one moment, lonely and isolated the next, but peaceful and calm in the end, a suitable ending, a probable release. The other part is for purely selfish reasons. Reiji's an isolated soul that's trapped by too many memories, imprisoned by ties stronger than blood or promises, cold on the surface, but dark with hunger beneath. Kiichi likes to think that for one brief moment in time, he can make Reiji feel free.

He thinks that's the only happy ending there ever could be, until Reiji's willing to find it himself.

Naoya was a great find, a treasure Kiichi approved of, especially when Reiji himself couldn't stand to leave the gentle kitten behind. It's one thing in a list of things Kiichi wants for Reiji, and he would do everything in his power to keep Naoya for him; perhaps as a birthday gift for the missed birthdays after Reiji went away, though that wasn't his fault. Reiji just couldn't stop running in the only way he knew, and Kiichi knows how much easier it is to leave places than it is to leave ties.

Kiichi is tied to the Aoe name. Reiji is too. But they've managed to leave behind as much as they can, and Kiichi knows it's enough. There's peace and calm— when Kiichi keeps still, that is—and they can do what they want. There are no shadows waiting in their old family house, shadows with cutting words of taunting cruelty, and the cold eyes of a malevolent god. They are not young children anymore, bracing themselves for the next whim of their father. They are not helpless, and never will be again.

They are not helpless, Kiichi thinks, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the cold breeze in their porch. It's that time of the year again, he knows. He always manages to forget for the majority of the year, but when even the leaves show their age, dulling to a mottled brown, its apparent distractions aren't enough anymore. The first time his skin was ever marked, dark and ugly and it hurt so much, but Kiichi had never cried because what tears he had left were dried up in a desert that never ceased to burn; the first time Reiji had lost what innocence Kiichi managed to save, one hand holding onto a slapped cheek, the other curled into a fist hard enough to break skin, eyes shining with the last of his hope, Kiichi's failure, and Shougo's triumph; the first time Kiichi knew what it meant to need, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, the intimacy of two lost souls, forever bound by ties stronger promises, forever entwined by their hopelessness, their unforgiving past—

It's that time of the year again, Kiichi thinks.

He hears no footsteps, but he knows Haruomi is there. He is always there, a presence in the background, warm and welcoming to touch.

"It's nearly winter," he hears from somewhere behind, a beacon with a blanket grasped in its long-fingered hands.

Kiichi looks at their garden, fading away and losing colour and life in preparation for nature's punishment, for nature's whim, and he feels what he knows to be his blanket covering his form.

"Yes, it is," he finally says when Haruomi is nearly finished and his hands are leaving. He lifts his own hands and catches them just before they are gone, threading their fingers together before resting them on his shoulder.

"Yes, it is," he says again, but already Haruomi's warmth is seeping into his chill, gently brushing away the frost, staking claim with his strong touch.

_Painful and knife-sharp, cold and isolated, and then finally peace and calm_—it is the way it should be. It is what he sees in Reiji's eyes; it is what he feels in his skin. It is the way Haruomi looks at him.

He tightens their threaded hands until he can feel his imprint, until he knows the chill is gone, and thinks that yes, Haruomi will always there.

Kiichi is happy. He shouldn't be surprised that he is, but he knows he won't ever stop, so he doesn't bother.

Winter comes and goes, and Haruomi is there.


End file.
